


Kjærtegn

by philemonarthur



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Love Confessions, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Sexual Content, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29282184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philemonarthur/pseuds/philemonarthur
Summary: i. e. caresses.Two very lonely souls are brought together by an ugly, unfortunate incident, which also makes them grow closer. Set in eastern Europe, after Winter Solider and before Civil War.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	Kjærtegn

**Author's Note:**

> The title has nothing to do with norse gods or the asgardians, im just norwegian lol

It was an ordinary, boring, grey Tuesday when she first saw him. Doing her weekly grocery shopping, she was standing by the vegetables, deciding what kind of potatoes to take home. She felt a presence looming behind her. Throwing a quick look over her shoulder, she saw a man waiting for her to move. She turned back and made a hasty decision before sidestepping and turning around to make her way over to pick out the next item on her list. She figured she could take a lap and decide on the potatoes last. Whatever. 

By some stupid turn of fate, she kept running into him. By the fourth time, when she saw him standing by the shelf of the snacks she wanted, she caught his eye and in reflex made a “waddoya know”-face. She hated that. When you kept running into the same stranger at the store and didn’t want to say anything, but you felt like you had to say something, you know? So that was how the day was going to be. She already dreaded leaving her apartment ( _thanks to a general lack of motivation to cook, a tad social anxiety, and laziness, she supposed_ ), but interactions like these just made it worse. They weren’t bad, per se, but she could see herself stressing over them later when she was trying to sleep. What made it worse was that he was attractive. Shoulder long brown hair, square jaw with some stubble, and kind, blue eyes. Slightly taller than her too, which was nice. 

When he smiled back, she could feel herself blush. She turned around and went to the register to pay, debating in her head if chips were worth an extra trip to another grocery store on her way home. After loading up the food on the belt, paying, packing everything down and feeling the weight of the two bags she had to carry home ( _why didn’t she bring a backpack for all the heavy stuff? You knew you were buying milk, idiot_ ), she decided that chips were an indulgence she didn’t need right now. 

She walked home and unconsciously left her eyes cast down to avoid another awkward meeting with a man too good looking for her own good. 

-

The first time she actually met him was a late Saturday evening. She worked as a waitress at a night club every other weekend. A friend plied her into the jig when the owner there needed more help. “We’ll be colleges, it’ll be so fun!” She was right, it was fun. Took her four weeks before she could take any orders without over-analysing the interactions with the patrons though. But now, almost a year later, it went well, and she was actually looking forward to dressing in all black and half-heartedly flirt with strangers for better tips. She quickly learned that drunk people didn’t care whether or not she was smiling, only how fast she could get them their orders. It suited her just fine.

It was a slow night. He came in the door alone, walking down the stairs to the lounge still wearing his outdoor clothes. Winter jacket, boots, and the cap on his head, which weren’t really out of place, they had gotten complaints before that the temperature in the lounge was, quote, freezing. The gloves were a bit much though. She followed him with her eyes from where she was stationed beside the bar, waiting for someone to either enter and settle in, or wave her down for another order. Being in a lounge setting, it wasn’t unusual to have servers bring drinks instead of ordering at the bar. He sat down in an unoccupied couch in one of the corners and tugged one of his gloves off, followed by his jacket, which was discarded beside him. She glanced over at the other waitress also working that night and saw she was busy with another table ( _one of the rowdy ones, which she was happy she didn’t have to deal with. 30 vodka redbulls, coming up_ ) and fished up her notepad and pen, and started to walk over to him. He looked vaguely familiar, and as she got closer it clicked. Handsome grocery store-guy. Well damn. 

She put on a strained smile as she neared. “Do you know what you want?” she asked, voice raised to be heard over the music playing, holding her pen ready to jot down his order. He looked up at her, and she swore she could see a flicker of recognition pass over his eyes. “Or are you waiting for someone?” she continued, hinting that he maybe wanted to order together with his potential date or party. 

A polite smile found its way onto his face. “Just a beer, thanks.” She nodded in confirmation and turned around to get his order.

The two bartenders working that night were busy throwing together the 25 vodka redbulls and five GTs ( _just to make it interesting, nice_ ) for the rowdy table when she reached them. She called a “behind” as she slid herself past one of them over to the beer taps. She looked up while the beer was pouring, and her eyes met his, surprisingly. Was he staring at her? Blinking away, she concluded he was probably just watching her to make sure she tapped beer right. 

The last hours of her shift went by swiftly, with guests filling the tables and booths steadily, and with her bopping her head absentmindedly to the music playing. She found her eyes wandering over to his table from time to time, just to see if he was still there. An hour before closing she found it empty, and some part of her felt disappointed. She hoped he would give her an excuse to muster up some courage to maybe flirt a little. Smile, make eye contact, strike up a light conversation, slip him her number. But alas, he had left, and she wondered if she’d ever bump into him again. 

Leaving the bar, she said good night to her colleges, wrapped her scarf closer around her neck and started her walk home. She lived in an apartment she rented from a friend after she moved out, right outside of the city’s centre. Everything she needed within walking distance, but without a crowded street outside her window. It was dark, close to 4am, and the sky was fortunately clear. She popped an earbud into an ear and put on a playlist to keep her company. With a brisk pace, she made her way home, sidestepping groups of people on their ways to after parties now and then. She made it home without incident and crashed into her bed right after locking her door. That lasted for about two minutes before she muttered “fuck” under her breath and got up to remove her make up. 

-

Three weeks went by until they met again. She was making her way home from work, nose pressed down in her scarf and music blasting in one ear, when a hand janked her sideways into the alley she was just passing. A knife was suddenly at her throat, and whoever had jumped her held her pressed against their front with an arm across her chest. “Not a sound now, girlie,” the man said. Her breath hitched, and she manged a short nod, mindful of the cold, sharp blade.

She mouthed the words “Please, don’t,” as his hand started searching across her chest, down her side, and into the pocket of her coat. She really wanted to put the sparce self-defence abilities she possessed to the test. She wanted to stomp on his foot, turn around and knee his crotch, and then gouge his eyes out. But this was the first time she ever found herself in a situation like this, of any kind, and she was frozen. His hands grabbed her wallet and phone, and she prayed he would leave her at that.

But no. His fingers closed around her keys and held them up in front of her face. “You and I are gonna take a walk. Show me to your place, and don’t try runnin’. Or do. Makes it more fun for me later.” He punctuated his threat by pressing the knife harder to her throat. “I’m feeling creative tonight,” he said, and bit her earlobe. She could feel his breath ghost over her neck.

She cringed away. “Please,” she tried, “I-I don’t live alone.”

“Don’t be cute. I know you’re by yourself,” he nearly growled into her ear. She almost whimpered. 

Before he could hook his arm in her elbow, and before her thoughts could wander too far from the present ( _and spiral into what possible horrors was waiting for her at home_ ), something crashed into them from behind, and she was pushed down on her knees, catching herself on her hands on the cold asphalt. She whipped her head around and was greeted with the sight of her attacker pinned by his neck against the alley wall by another unknown man. Her attacker’s hands were grasping at the arm holding him pinned and pulled the jacket up in the struggle. The arm looked like, she couldn’t see clearly, metal? Her eyes wandered over to the new man’s face, which was stuck in a snarl. He was squeezing his hand closer around the attacker’s neck, and with a grunt, he pulled him forward towards himself before slamming him back into the wall, knocking him out. His body slumped to the ground, and she realized she probably should have used to precious seconds where they both were distracted to bolt, but now, being faced with another, even more potentially threatening presence, she was once again frozen. 

“Thank-thank you so much,” she said, stumbling over her words. He turned towards her, walked the few steps closer, and reached a hand out to her. She gripped it and let him help her back up. When she looked up at his face again, she was met with a much kinder expression and realization suddenly hit her. “Handsome grocery store and patron at her workplace”-guy which she had been pining after the last three weeks. She uttered a silent “oh,” and even though she’d just been assaulted, she had it in her to blush. Not the meet-cute she’d imagined.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded and her gaze flicked down, unable to meet his eyes. She looked over at the man lying on the ground. “Is he dead?” she asked.

“N-no, just concussed,” he replied, sounding a little unsure, like the streak of violence wasn’t intended.

“He… He, um, has my phone,” she said. “And my wallet. And keys…” She hoped he could fetch them for her, not wanting to approach the unconscious man, scared he would wake up. “Can you-“ her question was left unasked, he was already ruffling through the man’s jacket. She got her stuff back and noted that her hands were starting to shake. She wrapped her arms around herself, and made to turn around, but stopped herself, because just leaving somehow felt wrong.

“Can I walk you home?” he surprised her by asking.

She hesitated for just a second. “Yes, thank you.” Discarding that he would know where she lived, and he could easily force his way in if he wanted, she chose to trust him.

When they reached her door, she turned around and hesitated yet again. Should she ask him in? On one hand, she wanted to, but on the other hand she could feel a breakdown closing in. She was clenching her hands to keep them from shaking even more, and was flinching whenever footstep from passer-by’s came too close, even with his calming presence by her side. 

Again, he got her in advance. “Good night.” He paused, took a breath. “I hope to see you again sometime.” 

“Really? That’s, um, really nice of you,” she replied with a strained smile, while nodding in affirmation, not wanting to sound sarcastic, but feeling tears pressing behind her eyes.

“Will you be okay? You’re bleeding,” he said, and reached for her neck. She was fighting not to back away, clenching the inside if her bottom lip between her teeth. Apparently, the knife had nicked her when she was pushed. Filled with adrenaline, she hadn’t felt it. 

“Yeah, yeah… Yeah,” she said, nodding even more. She gave him her most genuine smile she could muster at the time. “Thank you, again.” 

It wasn’t until she was up in her apartment, after crying for an hour, not getting calm enough to even attempt sleeping, and after her breathing was finally starting to even out, that she realized she forgot to tell him that she too would like to see him again sometime. She hadn’t even asked him his name.

-

Two weeks later, when she was standing outside the bar, saying good night to another waitress, she spotted him across the street. He stood with his hands in his pockets and caps covering the top of his face, and she almost discarded him for another night-roamer, hadn’t it been for his gaze glued on her the second she stepped outside. She did a double-take, second guessing if he was in fact waiting for her, and not someone else. A friend or a date maybe ( _at 4am, yeah right_ ). She made her way across the street and gave him a half-hearted wave. “Hey, are you waiting for someone?” she asked.

“Was hoping to walk you home again,” he replied, and just his voice was calming her anxiety and the worries that she’d harboured since her last late-night trek.

She felt warmth bloom in her chest. “I really appreciate that, thanks. You don’t have to, y’know. It’s pretty late”

“Yeah, but I want to,” he insisted. She could almost feel her heart flutter.

She averted her eyes, didn’t want him to see how affected she was, wanted to keep the tone light. It was a really thoughtful thing to do, not something she’d ever expect from anyone. Collecting herself, she looked back up at him and smiled. “Let’s go then.”

-

He walked with her the next few months, always waiting outside the bar, never making a big deal out of the huge favour ( _in her opinion_ ) he was doing her. Sometimes they ( _mostly her_ ) talked loosely about light and easy topics, just to fill the silence, and other nights she just greeted him with a short nod, and started walking in silence. She didn’t know how he exactly knew when she worked, seeing as she only worked every other weekend and whenever they needed extras to come in. Somehow, he was always outside when she got off, and she could only conclude that he either had her planner and work-e-mail hacked, or he was just that persistent that he waited outside every single weekend. 

“You can come in, if you want. I’ll put you on my list and pay for whatever you want to drink for the night. It’s the least I can do,” she’d offered one night.

“No thanks. Crowds aren’t really my thing,” was his answer.

She learned that his name was Bucky after she finally gathered the courage to ask. No way that was his given name, but she hadn’t in herself to pry. “Bucky” suited him. He already knew her name from the tag she wore at work. 

She still flinched whenever she heard a loud noise and had started to wear something to cover her neck. Turtlenecks or scarves mostly. She couldn’t stand being touched there. Not that physical contact was a constant in her life before, but someone grabbing her arm now almost made her spiral. She lost a tray with seven beers one time when a customer got handsy and she’d twisted away too abruptly. One time someone rushed past them on their way home too closely and too suddenly and she yelped and grabbed onto Bucky’s arm. “I’m sorry,” she sputtered and let go like he burned her. “It’s okay,” he replied and guided her hand into his instead. Her pulse calmed. He made her feel safe.

It was pouring rain the night she first invited him in. The bar had been slow and that somehow made her feel more tired than usual. She was yawning and fumbling with her keys to open the door. “You wanna come in? Least ‘till it’s stopped raining,” she asked over her shoulder. Nervous as she was, he accepted. She handed him a towel when they made it inside her apartment, and after removing her makeup, she disappeared into her bedroom to fetch an extra pillow and duvet that she laid out on the couch. She never turned on the lights, streetlights outside her windows lighting up the rooms in a soft, dim light, making it possible to navigate in the dark. “I’m too tired to stay up, I’m sorry. You can sleep here. There’s tea and coffee in the cupboard there,” she pointed, “and you can take and make whatever you want from the fridge. There isn’t much, but please don’t be shy.” He didn’t seem like a guy how expected her to fuck him just because she invited him up. She just wanted to be nice, didn’t want to leave him out in the rain when she didn’t know how far it was to where he lived. He smiled in thanks but didn’t say anything. He kept his jacket on. The silence somehow made her more nervous and she started fumbling with her hands. “I’ll be in there,” she jerked her head towards her bedroom. “I’d loved if you stayed ‘till morning, but I totally understand if you want to leave once the rain stops. Or before. Whenever you want. Totally up to you.” A beat. “Okay, good night.” She scurried to her room.

He woke up a few hours later, early Sunday morning by the soft sound of her crying in the other room. He got up, and silently walked over to her door and slowly slid it open to peer in. She was laying with her back to him, shoulders shaking, fingers curled around her arms, and sobs escaping what sounded like lips pressed tightly together. He carefully placed his knees on the bed and crawled over to her, placing a hand on her arm to comfort her. “Hey, you, what’s wrong?” he said. “Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay. Whatever’s wrong, you can tell me,” he tried when she didn’t cease her crying. What she did instead was turning over and clutching a hand in his shirt and pressing her face to his chest, holding onto him for, what felt like, was for dear life. “It’s okay. It’s okay, honey…” he continued, whispering sweet nothings to her, trying his best to soothe her. “I’m here, doll, I’m not going anywhere.” She pressed even closer at that.

He laid down on his back next to her and pulled her up to lay on top of him, pressing kisses to her hair and continued to whisper comforting phrases to her. It didn’t take long until she started to calm down. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said while using one hand to wipe her face for tears and snot. Trying to stifle her sobs, she began pulling in deep breaths. After a while, the situation caught up to her and all her muscles tensed. He was laying under her with concern apparent in his face, and she’d just bawled her face out in front of him. If that wasn’t enough, she’d also woken him. She laughed shortly while shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I’m such a fucking delight. You’ve been so nice to me and I repay you with the lousiest sleepover ever. Think I ruined your shirt too.” 

“Its- I don’t mind,” he said, a hand reaching up to stroke her hair.

She laughed. “I don’t believe you, but okay.”

She made to get up, but he placed a hand on her waist keeping her flat over his front, head resting on his chest, legs splayed on either side of his hips. “Please, stay. Don’t go just yet. You haven’t slept more than three hours, you must be exhausted.”

He could feel her slumping back own, muscles relaxing. “You couldn’t have slept more yourself. Aren’t you tired?” she asked.

“I don’t sleep much. I’m fine. I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled, and shorty after she fell asleep. He stayed up, laid awake and stared up at her ceiling and sometimes out her window, listening to her steady breathing, stroking one hand absentmindedly over her back and hair while the other held her tight.

When she woke up later that day, she was greeted by a very pleasant sight. The sun shining in her window, sunlight kissing her bed and cheek, and the firm feeling of a body beneath her. He smelled nice, she noticed. “Mornin’,” she said, voice thick with sleep.

“Good morning.” She could hear the smile in his voice. It was comforting.

She rolled off of him, sat up and used the hair tie she kept on her wrist to pull her hair away from her face. She looked over at him and did a double-take of what she saw. Sometime during the night, he’d shed his jacket, and was only wearing a t-shirt. His whole left arm was metal. Cold, hard, blank, silver-tinted metal. Her brain almost short-circuited. Should she say something? Should she ask what happened? That was a seriously advanced prosthetic, but it couldn’t have come without a price.

“We… We should talk,” he finally said.

Another beat. “Yeah.”

-

They talked for hours. He talkefd about how he lost his arm after falling out of a train and endured a fall that should’ve killed him. How he couldn’t remember much from his past, other than that he had a friend named Steve, or at least he thought so. The details he drew from his childhood made it sound like he was from another time, but were vague enough that she didn’t questioned them. He talked about being stationed in Europe, which she found strange, seeing as they were in Europe currently. He knew he was hiding from something, but couldn’t recall exactly what. He carried a lot of guilt.

He talked about the first time he saw her, and how she’d been one of the few people who actually met his eyes. He told her about the night he saved her from that creep that gave her grief for long time after. He couldn’t sleep and was out walking, when he’d spotted her on her way home, and how she’d been assaulted. Rage had rushed through him, and before he knew it, he’d knocked the man unconscious. If it wasn’t for her, he probably would’ve killed him. He had taken a liking to her, and just wanted her to be okay, and that scum of a human being had disturbed that. If she’d declined to let him walk her home, he would’ve just followed her at a distance, to make sure she stayed safe. Their walks the weeks and months that followed only made him grow fonder of her, even if he didn’t display it that soundly. He could gladly wait outside the bar every night of the week if it could spare her any more trauma.

She told him how her initial attraction to him led to her stumbling and almost fleeing his presence on the basis of a bad ex who made her believe she would be alone forever. How she struggled with forming any real connections outside of the few friends she had. How a new romantic relationship hadn’t seemed possible before she met him, and how any attention she received was just surface level based on looks and first impressions and personas. He made her yearn, but a bottom of the barrel self-image made her hesitant to really initiate something. 

She told him about the night her emotions spilled over, when a nightmare had woken her up and she’d realized that he was in the other room and how all she really wanted was to crawl onto the sofa and curl up next to him. But then she had remembered how she’d just stashed him away and thought about how he couldn’t possibly want to entertain her notions anymore. She thought that he would hear her cry and that in turn would make him want to walk out and be done with her forever. She was so scared of losing him, so scared that even more tears had pressed on and resulted in the ugly sobs he’d walked in on. 

Talking to him was easy. He was a good listener, the time she’d know him he hadn’t been anything but. They spent the rest of the day just lounging. It was uneventful and so perfect at the same time. She didn’t want him to leave, but eventually he did, but not without reminding her that they would meet again soon. She knew that, but she still wanted him to stay. 

-

“This is probably way too late to ask, but can I have your number?” she asked one day.

“I don’t have a phone.” He left it at that.

The next time they met, she pressed a small square device into his hand with the instruction “My number Is in there. Please call? I’ll refill the SIM, just tell me when you run out.” It wasn’t anything fancy, just a simple and cheap option to text and call, like the ones suited for ones’ grandparents, but with a smaller number pad. She figured he would prefer that. It also put her mind at ease that she could tell him whenever she worked now, so he didn’t have to wait out more than necessary. It still amazed her that he wanted to walk her home every single time.

But best of all, she now had a way to reach him ( _and him her_ ). It was one of the weekends she had off when she tried her luck the first time. She tapped his number in and had to pace a lap in her small living room before pressing dial, butterflies going wild in her stomach. She pinched a thumb in one fist while waiting for him to pick up, which thankfully didn’t take long. She stumbled through an exited greeting and with probably more words than needed, she managed to ask him over to her place. 

The night went by way faster than she wanted. She picked a light comedy ( _you haven’t seen this? I thought everyone and their mother had seen this!_ ), not wanting to annoy him with talking over a movie she knew way too well about the details and trivia she liked. Reign it in, you know, don’t get carried away. She still had a nagging voice in the back of her head that said yes, he seemed to like her now, but just one misstep would send him running. They started sitting at each end of her couch, a bowl of snack between them, but ended up with her leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder. She caught him looking at her in awe on some occasions where she would laugh at a joke and glance over at him to check if he also was enjoying himself. Most times he would meet her eyes and a smile would pull at his lips, sometimes he was even genuinely chucking.

The night came and she found the courage to take his hand and lead him to her bedroom. “I’d love it if you stayed. Please stay?” He replied with pulling the covers back and sitting down. Still with her hand in his, he gently tugged her down next to him. Of course he’d stay. She woke up the next morning with his arm around her waist, her back against his front, and him nuzzling the back of her head.

He spent the next weekends at her place regardless of if she worked or not. It became natural that he followed her all the way in, and when there, neither wanted him to leave. They watched movies, series, and she recommended him books and music ( _always surprised when he hadn’t heard about the ones really mainstream or iconic for pop culture_ ). He let her vent about work and she listened about him talk about whatever he did that week or day. She noted what food he liked, and little pleased her more than seeing his face light up in pleasant surprise when he saw that she had stocked up on produce he knew he’d mentioned in passing.

It was after they’d watched yet another romantic comedy which had contained an unexpected ( _and unexpectedly hot_ ) sex scene, that she’d gone really quiet. She silently stood up, turned off the TV and the lights in the apartment, took his hand and dragged him to the bedroom, and made him sit down facing her. He looked at her expectantly, and waited for her to take the lead.

She stood a few steps away from him, and pulled her shirt over her head, revealing herself to another person for the first time in two years. She took a deep breath. “He- I, um… He left me shattered, but I want to fix this; fix me. I want to do this, I want to make you feel good, and- and feel good myself.” _Please be patient with me_ was left unsaid, but he understood nonetheless. The lights were left off. She knelt before him and shifted herself between his legs. Her hands were shaking as she unzipped his pants and pulled him out. He was already getting hard, to her delight ( _and relief_ ). She took him in her mouth, starting with a lick at the base of his shaft that ended at his cock’s head, before opening up and fully embracing him with her lips. She could see him clenching the sheets with the hand made of metal out of the corner off her eye, and could feel the other petting her hair, wanting to grab and tug but restraining itself. She tried to let her tongue massage the underside of his shaft, but found it difficult, and settled on just sucking, and used one hand to assist the part she couldn’t reach. When she cupped his balls, he groaned.

“Oh, honey,” she melted at that, “you gotta stop or else I’ll cum.” He gently pulled her off him and leaned down to place a kiss on her lips. “You did so well, now get on the bed and let me return the favour.” She smiled and nodded in affirmation, then stood up. Before she could lay down on her back, he stopped her by placing his hands on her hips and leaned in to kiss her bare stomach. He reached up at unclasped her bra, discarding it on the floor. He kissed his way up to her chest, and took one nipple in his mouth, cupping her other breast with his hand. She felt a familiar but almost forgotten rush of arousal course through her when he started sucking. When he playfully bit down and rolled her nipple slowly with his teeth, she yelped. He let his tongue soothe her with a slow lick, and looked up at her with a smile and cocked eyebrow. She could feel the blush on her cheek, but was starting to get at ease, and met his smile. His fingers pinched her other nipple and she damn near moaned. 

A nervous laugh escaped her. “Oh god, it’s been- fuck, it’s been long.”

He dragged his hands down her sides and tugged her pants off, followed by her socks. Then he pushed her down on the bed with a gentle hand, before hovering over her. He leaned down to kiss her. “Just relax,” he said against her lips, and continued placing kissed down her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, her chest, her stomach, her pelvic. He pressed his nose against her crotch and mumbled “so good. So good for me.” He tongued her through her panties, before using his teeth to drag them down her legs and letting them fall to the floor. He made his way up to her thighs, and kept her legs spread with strong hands. Her legs twitched, wanting to close. She felt too open and vulnerable, but she was excited as hell at the same time. 

“Please,” was her consent, and he leaned down and starting kissing and placing small bites on her inner thigh, making his way pack up to her cunt. When he dragged his tongue over her folds, she sighed in pleasure. When he found her clit, she moaned. Her legs now bent, one pressed against her chest and one over his shoulder, both wanting to squirm away and press him closer. He pressed one, then two fingers into her, the stretch painful at first, but then morphing into a pleasant feeling of fullness. He worked her over one, two times, before she keened. “Need you. Inside, please.”

He was quick to comply. Shifting her legs to hug around his waist, he lined himself up and slowly pressed himself in. He met some resistance, and stopped now and then to let her adjust, continuing only when he felt her shift her hips to get closer to him. He filled her up so perfectly. “Slow. Start- start slow,” she managed to force out, eyes wrenched closed in pleasure and anticipation. It felt good now, but she was worried he’d rip her if he went too hard. He slowly pulled out, and then rolled his hips back in. Her breath hitched, and she clenched around him, making his movements stutter. Her ankles pressed into his lower back, urging him on. Before she knew, she was begging him “Faster, please, Bucky, faster, yes”. He was holding himself up with one hand, and the other found its’ way down between their bodies, and started rubbing her clit in slow circles. “Fuck, please, _harder,_ ” she moaned. She came with a loud whine, one hand clenched in his hair, pressing him close to her, and the other grabbing and in result, scratching her nails on his shoulder. He fucked her well through her orgasm, and when she was close to shifting away from overstimulation, his hips stopped, and he moaned into her neck. She could feel him cum in her, and that weirdly, somehow stroked a small, possessive part of her brain.

He slumped on top of her, and they both needed a few minutes before they were ready to move. He carefully pulled out and told her to just lay still. With a kiss on her cheek, he left for her bathroom and came back with a washcloth soaked in pleasant, warm water. He cleaned her so carefully, she almost cried, post-orgasm brain making her emotional. She felt so appreciated. He came back and laid beside her, pulling her naked body close to himself.

He spent the late hours of the night caressing every scar, every stretch mark, every tattoo, every mark on her body, and she whispered the story behind a chosen few. Right before she succumbed to sleep, she mumbled “I think I’ve fallen in love with you.” He kissed her temple and replied that he knew she was precious to him a long time ago. “I love you too, doll.” 

She was already asleep, cheek pressed to his neck, arm clutching at him, and leg slotted between his. Content, warm, safe, _happy_.

**Author's Note:**

> This was,, really self-indulgent. Tysm for reading<3


End file.
